


Seafoam

by patchwork_panda



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Sinja, sinbad x ja'far, sinbad x jafar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchwork_panda/pseuds/patchwork_panda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is based off of Hans Christen Andersen's "The Little Mermaid." Sinbad, the sole prince of his kingdom, is swept overboard during a storm and is saved by a mysterious stranger with white hair and freckles. Soon, he finds himself unable to stop thinking about his savior. Just when he thinks he will succumb to madness, weeks later, a new parliamentary secretary named Ja'far, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the stranger, arrives at his castle. Who is Ja'far and why has he appeared at this time?</p><p>Story inspired by Mermaid Sinja pictures on Pixiv and the song "Greatest Change" from the Legend of Korra Soundtrack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by a picture I came across on pixiv/tumblr of a drawing of Sinbad and Ja'far as mermaids, as well as the song "Greatest Change" from Legend of Korra. Address is given below and on tumblr.
> 
> http://patchwork-panda.tumblr.com/post/90998252971/patchwork-panda-kibo-komaeda-ok

Once again, he awoke in the early hours before dawn, haunted by dreams of a being of unearthly beauty. Sinbad, First Prince of Sindria, stretched his hand out into the darkness, eyes still closed, as if he could run his fingers through the creature’s hair if he only concentrated hard enough. A quiet knock came at the door.

“Lord Sinbad?”

Letting his hand drop back down to lush bedding, he sighed.

“Come in.”

The door opened with a soft click, and a young woman clad in green and white robes entered, her softly glowing staff held high.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she greeted him, removing her large black pointed hat with a graceful bow.

“Please Yamuraiha, we’re friends. You can just call me ‘Sin.’”

“Then good morning, Sin,” Yamuraiha corrected herself with a smile, the large golden shells around her ears sparkling in the dull yellow light as she replaced her hat. Her features softened as she approached, her long pink staff clunking smartly against the wooden floors as she walked.

“Still not sleeping well?”

“No,” he sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead as she sat down next to him.

“It’s still early and you need to rest,” she said soothingly. “Shall I make you something so you can go back to sleep?”

If he went back to sleep now, he would once again be in the thrall of that spirit, feverishly dreaming of that freckled face, backlit by the last rays of the setting sun over the blue and gold horizon. As tempting as the offer was, he decided to resist. Even he knew this wasn’t good.

“Sin?”

He was becoming obsessed with that creature...

It had all started two weeks ago, when he had come back from his latest voyage to a distant empire. The day had dawned a deep scarlet unlike anything he’d ever seen before, sending chills up his spine. He’d been sailing long enough to know what it meant, but never in his wildest dreams did he expect the tempest that overtook them. He’d done everything right: ordered the men to sail as fast as they could for the nearest harbor, tied down every last piece of cargo that they’d brought. He even checked the lifeboats himself. Unfortunately, all of it had been in vain...

The howling gale had torn a massive sail from the mast, snapped the thick ropes that held it in place as if it were but yarn. In an attempt to save a member of his crew, Sinbad had been hit with something heavy and thrown overboard by the pitching of the groaning ship. He’d swan-dived into the water countless times, but that day, the surface hit him like a stone wall, knocking the breath from his lungs as the ocean swallowed him whole. He swam for the surface, kicking and fighting his way up, gasping when his head broke above the calamity he once called his friend.

“Lord Sinbad!” Spartos’ voice carried down to him from above the gale. “Grab the rope!”

A line was flung in his direction, illuminated by a well-timed flash of lightning. But before he could reach it, the sea, like a jealous mistress, pulled him back under. He watched helplessly as Spartos’ horrified face vanished into the darkness.

Here, there was no sight, no sound, save for the rushing of water in his ears. The waves buffeted him about, the currents nearly ripping the hairs from his scalp, the salty water stinging his nose and eyes. He reached out, trying to swim for the surface once more, but he could not tell up from down and the futility of searching was beginning to sink in. His chest burned from lack of air, as if a giant were squeezing his ribs, waiting to hear the sharp crack of bone, and he grew dizzy. Finally unable to stand it any longer, he opened his mouth, praying to the gods that something besides water would fill his starving lungs. But his prayers were in vain. The ocean, cold and unforgiving, surged in to fill the void and he coughed and sputtered, knives like ice piercing into his torso as he sank.

This is it, he thought to himself, blearily watching the last bubbles of his precious air float away before him. He lived a good life; as the only prince of his kingdom, he expanded trade routes and improved relations with their allied countries. He’d spent countless nights in the company of beautiful women, drank his fill of exotic wines... He sighed, closing his eyes and released one final cough. His only regret was not spending more time adventuring on the high seas, but when he thought about it, this was a fitting end for him. He’d always known the sea would be his tomb, and he’d made peace with the gods long ago. He was ready.

But strangely, Death’s embrace was warm and His hands were smaller than expected. His consciousness fading, Sinbad opened his eyes and for a moment was met with a startling vision. A beautiful face, paler than the moon on a cloudless night, with dark, almond-shaped eyes stared back at him. A young man? 

“No...” Sinbad thought, as the pale figure gently brushed his cheek with long, slender fingers. This was a spirit, come to take him to the Afterlife. The last thing he saw before the blackness engulfed him was the spirit’s pink lips parting as if to say something.

***

He awoke in a violent fit of coughs to the cries of seagulls, warm sand against his back and cold waves lapping at his waist. His aching body was bruised and battered by the storm, but it seemed he was alive and had somehow washed up on the beach. Thank the gods. Hacking up the last of the ocean from his lungs, Sinbad sighed as a gentle breeze swept his sodden bangs from his forehead and he slowly opened his eyes.

A young man with shockingly white hair and large gray eyes stared back at him. The soft pink glow of sunset on his freckled cheeks intensified into a blush and as the man quickly moved back, Sinbad realized it was not the breeze that had swept his hair back, but the young man’s delicate fingers.

“Did you rescue me?” he asked, carefully sitting up. But before he could get a better look at his savior, foam sprayed into the air as the young man dove headfirst into the waves, once again dousing the injured Sinbad in seawater.

“Hey, wait!!”

Sinbad winced, clutching his ribs as he struggled to his feet.

“Wait!!” he wanted to scream, but his voice was overwhelmed by another fit of coughs as more salt water forced its way out of his body. Doubled over in pain with tears in his eyes, he heard distant voices calling out to him over his labored gasps.

“Lord Sinbad!”

Spartos? Masrur?

“Over here!” he cried out, waving to his friends. As he looked over his shoulder, back to the sea, he thought he caught a glimpse of a large set of deep-green fins, like those of a massive fish, glittering at him from the waves...


	2. Chapter 2

Since that day, he’d been like a man possessed. He asked everyone if they knew of a mysterious young man with white hair and freckles, but not a single person had ever seen such a man. Frustrated but determined, Sinbad had issued a small decree, hoping that someday he’d be able to find and reward the one who saved him. But instead of fading with time, the image of the stranger persisted, remaining with him from dusk til dawn, lingering in his dreams and following in his shadow as he went about his day. Sinbad sat up and made his way to his wardrobe. He hoped that the sooner he woke up completely, the sooner he’d forget. But he never did forget, did he?

“By the way, Yamuraiha,” Sinbad inquired, turning towards his court magician. “Why are you here? And so early too?”

“Well, I was passing by and I heard you talking in your sleep,” Yamuraiha said, frowning. “I thought it would be best to wake you if you were having nightmares again.”

“They’re not nightmares!” the prince protested. “I like the dreams.”

“Then why do you look so tired every morning and yet refuse sleeping potions?”

Yamuraiha sighed, as her lord and master grouchily turned his back towards her and began picking out his clothes for the day. No, she didn’t really expect him to answer her.

“Parliament recently hired a new secretary,” she told him, changing the subject. “He starts today and we were hoping to introduce you to him this morning. He’ll be arriving shortly but you should meet with him in the foyer after you’ve had your morning meal.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Yamu.”

Upon hearing her nickname from her childhood friend, she smiled gently.

“You’re welcome, Sin. Then, please excuse me.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Sinbad groaned. A new parliamentary secretary? That could only mean one thing: it was that time of year again. Every summer, before the Maharajan festival, the royal family and a small legion of secretaries would go over the nation’s documents, making sure finances were accounted for and construction was proceeding on time. Unfortunately, Sinbad was terrible with paperwork, and whenever scrolls got lost or charts went missing, the fault usually lay with him. They must have decided to hire another secretary just for the season to prevent another fiasco like last year’s...   
Grumbling, the prince got dressed and went to get breakfast. Just as he was heading out to the foyer, wondering what kind of cranky old man or woman was brought in to keep him on task, he looked out over the stairs. His heart stopped.

There, standing before him in a simple robe of white and green, was the spitting image of the spirit he’d seen the day he almost drowned. If Sinbad didn’t know any better, he’d swear they were identical, down to the freckles on the young man’s face. The only difference was that this person stood before him on two legs instead of fins. Flabbergasted, Sinbad took an unsteady step forward.

“Y-you!!” he stammered, stumbling down the stairs towards the creature.

“Lord Sinbad?!”

His servants gave him a wide berth as he quickly made his way down the steps, towards the two at the foot of the staircase.

“How is this possible?” he asked, placing his hands on either side of the young man’s shoulders and gripping him tightly. But the new secretary didn’t answer him. Instead, he nervously looked to Yamuraiha and took a step back towards her, trying to shake off Sinbad’s hands.

“Don’t scare him,” Yamuraiha chided, removing him from the prince’s grasp. “He’s only been in the country for a short time and he’s still getting used to it here.”

“Is that so? Then allow me to be the first to welcome you.” Sinbad exclaimed warmly, clasping his hands together in a gesture of greeting. “I’m Sinbad, the First Prince of the Kingdom of Sindria. What’s your name?”

He watched as the man before him gingerly bit his lip and shook his head miserably, looking to Yamuraiha for guidance. The young magician’s eyebrows knitted together as the two exchanged a meaningful look. After a moment, she sighed and directed her gaze back to Sinbad.

“His name is Ja’far,” she answered for the young man at her side. “And unfortunately, he can’t really speak ...”

“What do you mean he can’t speak? Our language isn’t that difficult to learn. Why don’t you call me ‘Sin,’ like Yamuraiha does?” Sinbad suggested, taking one of Ja’far’s hands in his.

He watched curiously as the man’s lips parted and he made a soft sort of hissing noise as he tried to pronounce Sinbad’s name. However, no other distinguishable sounds came out of his mouth. Finally, with a dejected look on his face, Ja’far shook his head and slipped his hand out from between Sinbad’s fingers, folding it delicately within his long sleeves.

“It’s not the language,” Yamuraiha explained. “He can understand you, he just... can’t talk...”

“Oh...”

As the days passed, Sinbad noticed more and more strange things about the newcomer. At dinner that night, Ja’far poked at the beef on his plate with his fork, turning it this way and that before hesitantly putting it in his mouth. Sinbad fought the urge to laugh at the perplexed look on his new secretary’s face before the servants brought out a plate of thinly sliced raw fish, which Ja’far tore into with surprising familiarity.   
On the third afternoon, Ja’far went for a walk in the garden and returned half an hour later, redder than the hibiscus blossoms with sunburn. Never had he met a man who burned so easily, the prince thought as he presented his new secretary with a dark green keffiyeh. But at the look of gratitude on Ja’far’s face as he placed the cloth on his head, Sinbad found his curiosity replaced by something else.

For the longest time, he couldn’t figure out what the something else was, until one day, he trailed the white-haired man after work and found him out on a wide balcony at sunset, staring wistfully at the sea. Upon seeing the mournful look on Ja’far’s face, the prince was seized with a sudden urge to take the man in his arms and say something meaningful to him, anything to wipe away the tears that would surely fall at a moment’s notice. But he could think of nothing. So he stood there in the doorway behind Ja’far, the two of them watching the waves lap at the shore until the stars began to appear in the sky and the water turned inky black.

Over time, despite hating work as much as he did, Sinbad found himself looking forward to the long hours spent in the office with his new secretary at his side. Although he didn’t speak, Ja’far had no problem communicating with the prince through writing and gestures and each day’s work was completed in a surprisingly short amount of time. Almost too short, Sinbad thought, as the days sped by. It wouldn’t be long before the documents were all processed and then Ja’far would leave, bound for another office or kingdom in need of his skills. But could he really just let him go like this?

***  
A sharp rap on the head woke him from his reverie. Yawning, Sinbad got up from the desk and rubbed his head.

“Oh, Ja’far.”

The white-haired man hovered above his master, worry lines creasing his forehead, his lips pressed together in a grimace of dissatisfaction. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but they both knew no words would come out. Instead, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, silently scolding the man behind the desk. Sinbad chuckled.

“What is it? Am I not working fast enough?”

The young man opposite him nodded his head up and down vigorously, glaring at Sinbad with the most adorable pout on his face. It was true that Sinbad had been slowing down lately but it wasn’t as if they weren’t going to get the work done on time. There were still a few days left to go before Maharajan Night and he had been purposefully pacing himself in a way that they would still finish. However, Ja’far showed an admirable dedication to his work and to Sinbad’s amusement, he began showing up to the prince’s office more and more frequently, always with that slightly irritated look on his face. It hadn’t occurred to Sinbad that he might be making trouble for Ja’far until he saw the faint, dark circles under the secretary’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Ja’far. I’ve been making your job more difficult than it already is, haven’t I?”

Ja’far exhaled and cast his eyes down. Then, he shook his head slowly to say “no” and looked back up with a soft smile.

“Well, work is difficult, isn’t it?” his warm gray eyes seemed to say.

He walked forward and placed a reassuring hand on Sinbad’s shoulder. Slowly, the prince laid his hand over Ja’far’s smaller one. There was something comforting about the young man’s touch. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but when Ja’far moved to run a hand through his dark bangs, he felt a twinge of something familiar. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that but the moment ended all too soon when Yamuraiha came to the door.

“The dinner bell rang a while ago,” she said apologetically.

Ja’far made a motion to leave but instead of relinquishing his hold on Ja’far’s hand, Sinbad tightened his grip. The secretary shot his prince a puzzled look.

“Actually Yamuraiha, do you think you could ask them to bring some food to the office?” Sinbad asked. “There’s still a bit left to do and Ja’far and I plan on finishing it before the night’s over.”

“Uh, alright?” she answered, confused. Sinbad never worked late. But then again, the season would be ending soon and they had to finish before that day came.

“I’ll let them know. Good luck, Sin.”

As her long robe disappeared from behind the door, Sinbad turned to the man next to him.

“Do you mind staying with me a bit longer?”

Gently shaking his head, Ja’far drew close and softly touched his forehead to the prince’s.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” his eyes said.


	3. Chapter 3

In the last days before the festival, the servants began to whisper. Sinbad, who usually had to be dragged to the office by his ponytail, now spent an almost inordinate amount of time in that once deserted room. At first, many were thankful that the new secretary had somehow managed to impress his work ethic onto the prince. However, as time went on, the feeling changed. Not only was Sinbad rarely seen outside the company of the freckled man nowadays, but it had become the norm for Ja’far, instead of Yamuraiha, to come and wake the prince in the morning. While it was true that there was still a lot of work to be done, very few believed in the necessity of the two spending so much time together. The long looks exchanged between them hinted of a scandal waiting to happen...  
But if the rumors had reached the prince’s ears, he showed no sign of it. Pointedly ignoring the raised eyebrows as he collected Ja’far from the staff room, Sinbad took a few scrolls from the nearest cabinet and left for his office, Ja’far following in his steps like always. But as the heavy wooden door closed behind them, he frowned.

“Is it getting to you, Ja’far?”

The shorter man calmly shook his head “no” but Sinbad could see the unease in those soft gray eyes. Unfortunately, before he could say anything, Ja’far smiled his usual polite smile again and let the scrolls cascade from his arms onto the large desk.

“Please get to work, Sin,” his gestures seemed to indicate. “We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Sinbad groaned dramatically, collapsing on top of the papers in a disinterested heap. When he didn’t get back up and reach for his quill, Ja’far frowned and strode towards him with his hands folded in his robes. He tapped his foot impatiently as Sinbad turned his head just enough to peer at him with one lazy golden eye through his long dark purple bangs. With that displeased pout on his face, Ja’far looked more cute and annoyed than angry.

The young man let out a little squeak of surprise as he pulled into a sudden hug, but he did not struggle to escape. Sinbad smiled, resting his cheek against his friend’s rapidly beating heart. Ja’far was warm and he had a surprisingly slim waist.

“I’m not cut out for this life, you know,” the dark-haired man mumbled into the layers of Ja’far’s robes. “I miss being out at sea on my ship, sailing, having adventures...”

But now that his country’s alliance was complete, the furthest extent of his wanderings would be the occasional foray into town and back. The events of the last few weeks had been the most excitement he’d seen in years. Between nearly drowning, being rescued by a mystical being and meeting Ja’far, the adventurer in him had reawakened, thirsting for new journeys and voyages to distant lands. He sighed. How he wished Ja’far could stay here longer. What would it be like if, after a long trip away at sea, he could come home to a happily smiling Ja’far, waving to him from the harbor in his long parchment-colored robes and green keffiyeh billowing in the wind? 

Sensing his prince’s melancholy, Ja’far’s shoulders dropped and he gently ran his pale, slender fingers through Sinbad’s long hair, slowly stroking the silky locks. Once again, Ja’far’s touch filled Sinbad with the kind of comfort he thought he’d long since forgotten, a feeling of home that he had never quite regained since the deaths of the King and Queen all those long years ago. He pulled Ja’far close, burying his face in the crook of the man’s neck, and inhaled the familiar tang of brine. It brought him back; he could practically feel the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.

“You smell like the sea, Ja’far...” Sinbad breathed, giving his companion a small squeeze. He felt the man stiffen, but before he could ask what was wrong, he was lying flat on his back on the cold tiles. Ja’far was standing above him with his open palms still stretched out before him. Sinbad blinked before slowly, getting to his feet. Quiet, unassuming Ja’far had just pushed him out of his chair.

“Ja’far...?”

His gray eyes wide with fear and his shoulders shaking, Ja’far drew his hands back towards his body and bolted out the door, his green keffiyeh flying in his wake.

***  
Ja’far was nowhere to be found for the rest of the day. His usual haunts, including the garden and the balcony, were deserted and he didn’t even show up for meals. No matter where he searched, Sinbad couldn’t find him. Resigning himself to a lonely afternoon of work, he trudged through the halls, about to go back to his office when, in a bout of impulsiveness, he decided to go back to his room to nap instead. If he didn’t get his work done, he could blame Ja’far for not being there to keep an eye on him. Maybe when the papers started to pile up again, the white-haired man would burst through his door with a furious look on his face to drag Sinbad out of bed. And maybe then he could pull his adorable secretary in between the sheets with him.

The soft white hair that he longed to brush away from the man’s face, the light spray of freckles across his small nose, those intelligent gray eyes which knew no depth... His body burned at the memory of how perfectly his arms had fitted around that slender waist. Were the legs hidden under that long robe similarly long and shapely? And then there was the fact that Ja’far so closely resembled the beauty that had saved him... Sinbad could feel some sick longing welling up within him so quickly that he almost staggered from the strength of it. He could deny it no longer. He wanted Ja’far. Just as the full force of his realization hit him, the object of his thoughts emerged from the shadows like a small freckled phantom.

“Ja’far! There you are. I was looking for you!”

Thankfully, the young man didn’t run away this time. Heartened, Sinbad approached his friend, hoping the thoughts in his head wouldn’t show on his face. As he got closer, he saw that Ja’far’s short white hair was damp and plastered to his head; he smelled strongly of a flowery soap.

“Did you take a bath?”

A solemn nod. Confused, Sinbad took one of Ja’far’s hands and examined it.

“How long were you in there? Your fingers look a little wrinkly.”

For a moment there was silence as Ja’far averted his eyes. Then he looked up, through those long eyelashes, and turned Sinbad’s hand over so that his palm was facing up.

“I want to apologize for my behavior earlier,” he traced over the prince’s tingling skin. “I didn’t mean to react so strongly. Please forgive my rudeness.”

“No, it was my fault,” Sinbad mumbled. “I was the rude one. I didn’t mean to say you smelled bad earlier. To be honest, I like the smell of the ocean... it reminded me of the old days. It was nice.”

He placed a hand on Ja’far’s softly glowing cheek, still warm from the bath.

“You didn’t need to go take that bath. I think you smell fine...”

As Sinbad looked down into Ja’far’s beautiful gray eyes, he could sense there was something bothering him.

“Ja’far? Are you alright?”

But Ja’far didn’t answer him. Instead, his eyes burning with emotion, the shorter man suddenly flung his arms around Sinbad’s neck and pressed his lips to the prince’s.


	4. Chapter 4

Sinbad was so shocked that his eyes were still wide open when Ja’far finally released him. He could only stare, dumbfounded, as Ja’far stood there before him, wringing his hands. It took him a moment to notice that Ja’far’s lips were moving and when he finally processed what the words were, his stomach gave a sickening lurch.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Ja’far silently mouthed.

“Don’t be!!”

Ja’far gasped as he was swept into his prince’s arms. Sinbad felt the man’s breath stop for a moment as he clasped Ja’far’s body to his in a firm embrace. He only let go so that he could tilt Ja’far’s chin up for another kiss. The lust that had been steadily smoldering within him since that day at sea was ignited into a flame and his kisses became more hurried, more passionate as he struggled against the desire to devour Ja’far right there in the hallway.

He pushed Ja’far against the wall and nipped at the quivering young man’s neck, marveling at how quickly the dark bruises spread under the soft, pale skin, like ink on parchment. He wasn’t sure if Ja’far’s gasps were the result of pleasure or pain, but he was not being pushed away so he kept going, sliding his hands along the man’s waist and slipping them under his shirt. If anything, Ja’far appeared to be enjoying his touch, clinging to him even more tightly as his eyes closed and his mouth fell open in a silent moan. It wasn’t long before Sinbad could feel something pressing into his leg. His hand brushed against it and at once, Ja’far twitched and took a tiny step back. The taller man stopped and caressed his companion’s freckled cheek, searching his eyes for an answer. Ja’far looked suddenly nervous, possibly terrified.

“Are you okay?”

The young man bit his lip but he nodded fervently and buried his face in Sinbad’s robes, desperately rubbing his body against the prince’s. He gave a small start when his wandering hands found the reaction hidden under Sinbad’s robes. Pushing the taller man back a little, he gingerly touched the swell of fabric, looking back and forth from Sinbad’s body to his own. Sinbad watched as Ja’far chewed thoughtfully on his lip, finally understanding.

“You’ve never been with a man before?” he asked.

Ja’far shakily shook his head no. However, his expression was needy and he gripped the collar of Sinbad’s robes tightly, begging the prince with his eyes for more.

“Shall I teach you?”

His face flushed and his lips trembling, Ja’far nodded. Only then did the prince open the door to his room.

***

Sinbad awoke in the darkness to an empty bed. He felt cold.

“Ja’far?”

He was about to roll over and go back to sleep when a peculiar sound reached his ears: someone was crying. Concerned, he sat up and realized with a jolt that the space next to him where his lover had been was still warm. He listened closely and slowly realized the crying was coming from right outside his door. 

“Ja’far...?” he called.

The crying abruptly stopped, replaced by the quick, light footsteps of someone fleeing down the hall. Sinbad flung the sheets aside, scrabbling for something, anything, to cover himself with, slipping on a few large flower petals scattered across the ground as he ran for the exit. He burst through the door and spotted the train of his secretary’s green patterned robes disappearing around the corner. At once, he gave chase but the smaller man was too quick. Sinbad arrived just as Ja’far’s door swiftly clicked shut. He pressed his ear to the wood and heard another door closing from inside the room. Puzzled, he tried the knob and was astonished to find it wasn’t locked. Had Ja’far not heard anyone running after him?

“Ja’far?”

As he stepped into the darkened room, he was inexplicably filled with a sense of foreboding. The bed looked pristine, as if no one had ever slept in it. The open wardrobe door revealed layers and layers of clothes inside, but none that weren’t the dark green and eggshell of Sindria’s castle staff robes. Strangest of all, the carpet appeared to be damp in several places. Sinbad’s heartbeat thudded in his ears as he approached the closed bathroom door, where he could see bright candlelight flickering in the crack between the door and ground.

“Ja’far, it’s me,” he called, knocking loudly. “Are you okay?”

No answer. His eyebrows furrowed with worry, the prince gritted his teeth, preparing himself for whatever awaited on the other side of the door. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Clutching his usual green and white robes to his bare chest, the prince’s lover pushed himself to a sitting position on the bathroom floor. A long green fish’s tail emerged from beneath the pale embroidered cloth, the scales shining like emeralds.

“Ja’far...”

It was at this moment that the light caught on something on Sinbad’s sleeve. He carefully picked it off and examined it. At first, it appeared to be a glittering crystalline flower petal, like the ones that littered his bed sheets and floor. However, it wasn’t a flower petal; it was a mermaid’s scale. Not knowing how to react, he looked from the object in his hand to Ja’far.

Fresh tears filled the young man’s eyes, rolling down his cheeks in rivers and he let out a soft hiccup of a sob. And as Sinbad stared in disbelief, Ja’far gathered his robes about his body and buried his face in his sleeves, crying pathetically as he sat there on the patterned tiles. Sinbad dropped to his knees.

“It was you,” he whispered, as he gently drew the weeping merman into his arms. “You’re the one who saved me. But how...?”

Ja’far sniffled, wiping his face with the corner of his sleeve and pointed up. As Sinbad followed Ja’far’s pale finger towards the wall, his heart sank. There, above the bathtub, was a shelf with rows upon rows of small corked bottles. The last three were filled to the neck with a dark liquid the color of congealed blood. As he peered into the tub, he noticed that the water was a pale pink, and sitting at the bottom of the tub were bits of broken glass and a cork. Realization dawning, Sinbad reached for one of Ja’far’s scarred hands to find it covered in fresh cuts.

“These are potions,” he pieced together out loud. “Aren’t they?”

Ja’far nodded, burying his face in the prince’s chest. Sinbad watched as the merman pointed shakily at his tail and then at his lover’s legs.

“...and taking them changes you into a human.”

He hugged Ja’far more tightly as a fresh wave of sobs wracked that small body in his arms.

“Hey,” he murmured soothingly, wiping away a tear. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Ja’far tugged at the edges of his robes, trying to cover up his tail, but Sinbad snatched his hands away and pressed a kiss to his pale fingertips.

“Please don’t do that. You’re so beautiful, Ja’far. I’ve always thought so, ever since that day we met at the beach. You don’t need to hide anything from me. I don’t care who you are or where you came from,” he insisted, even as Ja’far frantically shook his head in dissent. “You saved my life and you mean so much to me.”

But Ja’far’s expression remained desolate. He pushed against the prince’s chest, quietly trying to break out of his embrace.

“Look at me, Ja’far! Please!!” Sinbad begged, his voice cracking. He placed his hands on either side of Ja’far’s tear-stained face so that the merman had to look him in the eye.

“I love you!!”


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were true. Ja’far, understanding at last, could only stare at Sinbad with those gorgeous gray eyes that had haunted his dreams every night since their first fateful encounter. Gradually, his cheeks flushed pink and a wan smile grew on his face. He lifted himself up and kissed the prince’s cheek.

“I love you, too,” he wrote onto Sinbad’s palm. “But you’re human and I’m not. We can’t be together.”

“Don’t say that! Haven’t we been together since the moment you arrived at the castle?”

“Sinbad, you know what I mean.”

“And you know what I mean! How can we not be together when you’ve walked these halls with me every day for the last few weeks?”

“You don’t understand!!” Ja’far scribbled furiously, punctuating his statement by pounding a weakly clenched fist against Sinbad’s chest.

“What don’t I understand?” Sinbad almost shouted. “Help me, then! Tell me what’s going on!”

For several long seconds, they glared at one another, neither of them blinking or backing down. Ja’far’s shoulders began to shake. Fearing his beloved would start crying again, Sinbad reached for him when the merman covered his mouth with his hands and a dry crackling sound came from his throat: Ja’far was laughing.

“Why are you so persistent?” he wrote, still half smiling with amusement as he leaned back against the man’s chest.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sinbad answered, wrapping his arms around the merman. “You saved me once. Now let me help you.”

“I don’t know if you can.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Even potions are temporary. I can only handle one bottle per day and the effect wears off in the middle of the night. Did you know tonight was the first time I was able to sleep in a real bed?”

The dark-haired man could only watch mutely as Ja’far continued to tell his story.

“I’ve been sleeping here, in the bathtub. And then there’s the side effects. Drinking one dose makes me lose my voice. Drinking more than a month’s worth would likely shorten my lifespan. I can’t stay here, Sin, no matter how much I want to.”

“He finally called me ‘Sin,’” the prince thought weakly, the words burning on his hand as Ja’far wrote them. The merman’s wistful smile was like a knife in his chest and though Ja’far’s fingers were warm on his cheek, Sinbad felt himself growing cold at the thought of living the rest of his life without the one he loved most.

“Ja’far... how much time do you have left?”

“Two days.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

“For what?”

“To think of a solution,” Sinbad decided, closing the distance between them for a passionate kiss. “I want to be with you, Ja’far and I’ll find a way. I swear it.”

It was at this moment that a figure appeared in the door, a woman with a tall black pointed hat and long blue hair. As Sinbad and Ja’far looked up at her, her staff fell to the ground with a sharp clatter.

“Yamuraiha...”

The magician’s face was strangely blank as she took a hesitant step back. Sinbad was about to order her to stay and to keep their secret when she sank to the ground, the color draining out of her face as she stared at the prince and the merman.

“...You weren’t supposed to find out,” she whispered, her cheeks chalk-white. And then to Sinbad’s shock, she got on her hands and knees and bowed so low, her hat fell off. As her forehead touched the ground, everything suddenly began to make sense. The seashell bra, the gold spiked conches adorning her ears, the extensive knowledge of water magic...

“You’re a Sea Witch,” Sinbad realized, his voice hushed.

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” she repeated, her voice unnaturally high. She was shaking.

“Yamu...”

“I’m so sorry!!” she wailed, “I didn’t mean to deceive you, Your Majesty. I swear, I meant no harm!!”

“Yamu.”

“Ja’far is my friend. He’s been in love with you for so long and I couldn’t stand to watch him suffer any more!” Her voice rose in volume with each word, gradually becoming more hysterical as she spoke. “And then you told me about the man who saved you and everyone in the castle could tell you were obsessed with him, so I put two and two together and I—I—please forgive me!”

“YAMU!!”

Surprised by the sheer force of Sinbad’s voice, the Sea Witch was struck silent and she looked up hesitantly as the dark-haired man reached out to her with a smile on his face.

“Please get up, Yamu. I’m not angry.”

Baffled by the prince’s expression, she squeaked out something that sounded like “treason,” tears gathering in the corners of her wide blue eyes.

“I want to say thank you,” Sinbad continued, stroking Ja’far’s soft white hair. “For bringing us together. Really. I can’t thank you enough.”

“But...” Her eyes downcast, she mumbled, “The magic isn’t permanent. Ja’far must return to the sea in two days!”

“I’m aware of that, Yamu,” Sinbad growled, “but now that we’re finally together, I’m never letting go of him again.”

“But you have to! He’ll die!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Sin!!”

“I have an idea.”

His throat tightened. 

“Yamu?”

She gripped her staff tightly and braced herself. Something in his voice scared her.

“I need you to do something for us...”


	6. Epilogue

“It is with deep regret that I must inform you all of the passing of the Prince’s secretary, companion, and dearest friend Sir Ja’far.”

The crowd gasped as one and horrified whispers broke out amongst the people. The night after the festival, Ja’far had appeared paler than usual, an astonishing feat none thought possible. And then, his skin as stark-white as his hair, he had collapsed in the halls, the scrolls in his arms rolling every which way and unfurling like banners. Prince Sinbad had rushed to his side, calling Ja’far’s name as he tried to shake the man awake. When Ja’far didn’t respond, the dark-haired man scooped him up in his arms and swiftly carried him to his room, Yamuraiha sprinting after them, her staff held high and her hat askew. They remained in that room for the next two days, during which the only two people seen coming and going from those heavy wooden doors were Generals Drakon and Hinahoho. Finally, on the third day, her face ashen with fatigue, Yamuraiha emerged. Flanked by the other two generals, her steps forebodingly heavy, she made her way to the balcony overlooking the central courtyard, where the people had gathered, to make the announcement. She cleared her throat to be better heard over the buzzing crowd.

“As you can imagine, His Majesty has been affected most profoundly and has been too distraught with grief to leave his room in the past few days. Therefore, he has asked me to pass on his final message on to you all.”

At these words, the low mumble broke out into outright chaos.

“Final message?! What do you mean?” Sharrkan roared, throwing his sword to the ground.

“Has the prince passed away as well?” Pisti cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Silence!!” Drakon bellowed. “Let the Mage finish!”

“Thank you, General Drakon.”

Banging her staff on the ground as the rabble died down, Yamuraiha continued.

“Lord Sinbad has asked me to inform you all that he will be going on a journey. As the sole witness of Sir Ja’far’s passing and as the man who was closest to him during this time, the Prince believes it is his duty to go to Ja’far’s homeland and personally deliver the news. When this task is complete, he will be continuing his journey of self-discovery so that he may find inner peace.”

Cries of relief and confusion began to fill the room.

“Wait a minute! If he’s leaving, when is he coming back?! Who is he leaving in charge?”

“He’s the prince! He can’t do that!”

Yamuraiha sighed.

“I’m sorry. I cannot tell you when he will return because even he does not know if or when he will be back. However, he has left us, his Seven Generals, in charge. Drakon, Hinahoho, Masrur, Sharrkan, Spartos, Pisti and I are to remain the guardians of this country and to watch over Sindria in his absence. He has faith in us.”

“I’ll make him proud,” Sharrkan exclaimed, fiercely swiping at his face so nobody could see the tears welling in his bright green eyes. A heavy but reassuring hand fell upon his shoulder and he looked up to see Masrur, his armor gleaming, standing tall despite the news.

“We will make him proud,” the tall redhead stated.

“So that one day when Sin does come back, we will be able to face him,” Pisti finished, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“Oh, he’ll definitely be back someday,” Hinahoho chuckled. “That man would never abandon Sindria.”

He clapped a massive hand on Drakon’s armored shoulder. The green haired general fixed him with a questioning glance as the large man turned to the magician standing between them.

“Isn’t that right, Yamuraiha?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just slowly walked back inside, steadily making her way through the halls to the balcony overlooking the ocean. The cries of seagulls rang in her ears and she breathed in the taste of salt, watching the waves lap at the shore from behind the stone railing.

“Yamu?”

She whirled around to see a tall man with white hair wearing eggshell robes embroidered with green standing in the doorway, but it was Sharrkan. His chain jewelry clinked softly as he approached.

“Are you okay?”

Dabbing at her eyes with the corners of her sleeves, she smiled.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

………………………………

Far below the waves, in the heart of the sea, two creatures swam through the depths, gliding through the currents like a pair of dancers. Dappled sunlight flashed over their scales, sparkling in the water like shattered gems of glittering emerald and darkest amethyst. As one caught up to the other, the smaller of the two swam for the surface, his head breaking through to the sun-streaked sky. Sweeping his damp white bangs away from his storm-gray eyes, he laughed as his companion, a man with long dark purple hair and the tail of a fish, joined him. The freckled merman wrapped his arms around his lover’s neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. Then, fingers entwined, they dove back below the surface into the deep blue unknown, together at last.


End file.
